How Sherlock Finds Out
by xPhineasx
Summary: They couldn't keep it a secret from him for long. Mystrade


My first attempt at a BBC Sherlock fic, and my first Mystrade. Lol.

How Sherlock finds Out

x x x

John followed Sherlock into Lestrade's office,business as usual. Some new case that's baffling has left the Detective Inspector coming to Sherlock for help.

"To be honest, we're at a bit of a loss," Lestrade said, pulling the file out of his desk and dropping it in front of Sherlock. "Two brothers catch a cab after leaving a bar at 11 last night, by the time they reach the house both are dead in the back seat. No sign of struggle. Poor cabbie is in a state."

John looked over the autopsy reports. He has to admit that this case ranks at least a 7 on the Sherlock scale. It made no sense really.

"Hmmm," Sherlock said, only he was staring at Lestrade, not the files.

"We're thinking it might be some kind of poison gas or something that left their system but the cabbie was fine and…well…you tend to be better at these kinds of things," Lestrade said. The man seemed tired, overworked as usual. "We have Donovan interrogating the cabbie right now."

"Interesting," Sherlock was still staring at the detective inspector. He hadn't even looked at the papers yet.

"What are you thinking, Sherlock?" John asked. The man was not paying attention to the case. John actually doubted the man had heard a single word. He seemed distracted, if Sherlock Holmes could be distracted.

"Tell me, Lestrade, how is my brother?" Sherlock said in a voice that implied that he knew exactly when the last time Lestrade had seen his brother. John furrowed his brow. Sure, Lestrade and Mycroft knew each other. Since Baskerville they knew that Lestrade sometimes checked things out for the elder Holmes. Yet the question came with an implication that John couldn't place.

Lestrade though seemed to be turning a rather flustered shade of red. "Sherlock, can you look at this case its-"

"Boring," Sherlock said, gave one glance at the papers, and began to walk in circles around Lestrade. "But you-"

"Now Sherlock, come on-" Lestrade said and took a step back.

"What will your wife think?" Sherlock asked in his smug, teasing way that made people want to punch him.

John cleared his throat. "I'm not sure I understand, Sherlock. But the case-" he prompted.

"This really isn't-" Lestrade added.

"Tell tale wrinkles on the inside seams of the pants, Lestrade didn't make it home last night. Small stain of gin on the collar. Lestrade doesn't drink Gin, certainly doesn't pay for it, not with his salary. Someone else bought it for him then. Someone who likes gin and insists on the finer things in life. Breath smells of mouth wash, but not his usual kind, once again, stayed out last night. Spent the night with someone who buys top of the line mouth wash. Someone with money."

"Sherlock," Lestrade said in a warning voice.

"Stains of coffee on his collar. Fresh from this morning. Not the cheap coffee he normally drinks though. Nice coffee. Expensive. Not the kind you'd get in a hotel at all. He went home with someone then. Looking more and more like Lestrade knew this person. He's the kind of man to only go home with someone he knew. If it was a stranger and a one night fling they would have gone to a hotel."

"This is not why I called you here," Lestrade protested.

"Faint traces of clay mixed with pipe ash on the soles of his shoes. He walked through the rain last night, somewhere in the city where there is clay and lots of smokers. A Gentleman's club perhaps? But there's no clay on the bottom of his pants, he walked under an umbrella. Lestrade doesn't own an umbrella, so he walked with someone who did."

"Sherlock this really isn't-"

"Despite spending the night away from home, there's no crick in his neck. A man of his age is used to sleeping in the same bed every night. To sleep somewhere strange and have no back pain the next day? You've seen Lestrade after he's been away on vacation. Lower back pain on any normal mattress that isn't his own. It's a nice bed then. Someone with orthopedic pillows perhaps?"

"Can you just look at the case, Sherlock?" Lestrade seemed very cornered at the moment. John couldn't blame him really.

"Now you'll notice that despite having no BACK pain, our dear Inspector was walking a bit funny on his way in which implies-"

"SHERLOCK!" Lestrade had turned a very vibrant and bright shade of red. Sherlock smirked at that and let it go.

"Who do we know that is a neat freak, drinks nice coffee, never goes anywhere without an umbrella, lives in an area with clay soil, attends a renowned club, owns an orthopedic mattress, and to top it all off drinks only expensive gin and has a habit of buggering middle aged men that he feels he can shut up with enough money should they ever become a problem?" Sherlock looked over at John as though the answer was obvious.

John's mouth was slightly open.

"So tell me, Lestrade, now that you're sleeping with Mycroft, are you going to be more or less annoying? Am I expected to get you Christmas presents now?"

"I….Sherlock…I…" Lestrade seemed to be in a state of shock.

"It was only a matter of time really. You are his type."

"I…" Lestrade stuttered helplessly.

"Your twins were killed by spider bites. Check their knees and ankles for the bite marks. There's swelling around their finger nails that gives it away. Good day, Lestrade," Sherlock said and walked out of the room with a whirl of his coat.

John looked over at Lestrade. "Um…are you alright then?"

"….Mycroft did warn me that could happen," Lestrade said quietly and cleared his throat. "I….uh…need more coffee."

"Right…sorry about him," John said.

"It's fine of course. Uh…yeah," was Lystrades nervous reply.

"Congrats though. You and Mycroft…" John said.

"Well…thanks, John."

"You're welcome," John said and followed after Sherlock.


End file.
